family

February 01, 2017

Dear reader, there are so many things I should be doing right now but I need to stop and spend a moment here, even if briefly. The other day I went for a run and my thoughts turned to how much my world has changed in the past two years. Sometimes it seems as if I'm trapped in one of my beloved snow globes and someone is shaking it, hard. Life is still filled with goodness and beauty, but it has also trifled with my capacity to handle everything that's been coming my way. Lately, it's rattled me to the core.

As I ran along, wondering what to do with all this desperation, a memory came to mind of something nice I once did for someone. Suddenly, I started recalling when life felt simpler and such gestures factored more routinely into my day. It made me think: couldn't I possibly find the time to do something like that again? Given I felt I was drowning in the various concerns and responsibilities on my plate, this seemed like a rather incongruous conclusion. But I did it anyway...and I tell you, I've been feeling somewhat better ever since.

This morning I came across these words from Thomas Monson, president of the LDS church: Love is the very essence of the gospel, the noblest attribute of the human soul. Love is the remedy for ailing families, ill communities, and sick nations. Love is a smile, a wave, a kind comment, and a compliment. Love is sacrifice, service, and selflessness.

Love is not a new concept, of course, but somehow this revelation came to me out of the ether, like a long forgotten dream. Showing love to others, whether in large or small ways, is always significant. There's a power in giving and receiving it that seems able to transform one's outlook or way of experiencing reality, even when nothing about the reality actually changes.

We're in the month of February, dear reader. I've always had a special place in my heart for the pink and frill of valentines, the handwritten note, the tiny gesture, the infinite possibilities of love. I'm reminded now, too, of how it strengthens me to look for extra ways to put love out there, perhaps especially when it seems the most illogical move would be to take on one more task.

I once read a biography of Mother Theresa and was deeply touched by her memories of childhood, of her mother who kept the family table open to anyone who was hungry from their little Macedonian village. I don't know if I'll ever live up to such an example of goodness, but I can see it's in giving of myself that I'll be strengthened to deal with everything else that's going on, that something better and more beautiful happens when we find ways to reach out to others and let them know we care.

January 04, 2017

Dear reader, the house is rather quiet today. Jonny got on his flight this morning, Roger is at work, and the girls have returned to school. Sophie and Jakob are with us until the weekend (!), but at the moment they're fast asleep. I went for an early walk with Winnie, and while she remains nearby it's all she can do to keep her eyes propped at a bare squint.

The past few weeks have been filled with fun and family, rest and relaxation. I've sat back and marveled at it all--how we are "suddenly" at this stage of life with growing-up children and conspicuous change, and how quiet I sometimes feel as I watch it unfold. I wish I could untangle my thoughts and make sense of these things. It doesn't always seem possible to be such a seasoned adult, to occupy this seat at the table. In some ways I feel like an ancient soul and yet...still not sure if I'm old enough to be doing what I'm doing.

A cold bit of comfort I've picked up over the years: life doesn't seem unduly concerned about whether I feel old enough to handle what comes my way so perhaps I shouldn't be, either.

Moving on to the new year, then: a dubious goal I have for this blog is to try and write about lighter things. I honestly wonder if I can do it. Every time I come here, and without the slightest intention of doing so, I manage to snuff the fun out of the party by dwelling on the most sobering topics known to mankind. I do it in real life, too, at all the right moments: post office lines, dentist appointments, meeting people for the first time. It's just who I am, dear reader, it's part of my cachet.

My school semester will be starting soon and with it a counseling practicum...and it recently occurred to me (not for the first time, mind you) I possess the wardrobe equivalent of an unkempt teenager masquerading as the school librarian. So even though I KNOW there are weightier concerns in the universe, I may pause from these matters to consider my ongoing lack of sophistication (made even more apparent these days by the leggy girls who stalk around my house with their lipstick pouts and inadvertent ways of reminding me why I never got asked to prom), and the need to remedy the situation by trying to look like someone people might actually consider consulting for help as opposed to offering it.

If I were a betting woman, I'd lay odds my next post hammers down upon the meaning of life rather than what one might wear besides ill-fitting t-shirts and jeans...but you never know.

December 17, 2016

Hello, dear reader, how are you doing at this beautiful time of year?

I say "reader" out of habit, though it seems a bit disingenuous since I so rarely write something to read these days. It rather seems I should greet anyone who comes to visit as a long-lost friend and indeed, if you're still here, that is probably what you are.

My head is filled with the wonders of life, as usual. School is out and my children are home for the holidays. I've enjoyed my return to university beyond my wildest dreams, but I'm glad for this break and the rest from a busier schedule.

Last Tuesday, Izzy was in a serious accident on her way to school. Though her car was demolished from every angle, the driver's side was left unscathed and she walked away from it with minor injuries. I've been trying to compose my thoughts on the matter since it happened...the quiet numbness I feel whenever life lays bare the stakes of what is most dear to me, my awe at Izzy's resilience, this daughter who has struggled with grave challenges the past several years, the deep humility I feel in knowing she was protected from what could have been much worse, and the inevitable awareness that sometimes such deliverance isn't given, and what that means to me in terms of how I view life and choose my path accordingly.

I'm struck by the thought the only guarantee in this unpredictable world is the extent of my faith in God. I say this with respect to those holding different beliefs, but I've learned for myself this is my steadiest footing: to believe in Him with a resolution that allows me to be grateful when my prayers are answered according to my requests, and to turn to Him for greater strength when the answer brings disappointment or breaks my heart for what it is unable to grant.

November 01, 2016

Hello, dear reader, how are you? Won't you take a minute to exchange pleasantries? Perhaps tell me something about your day?

My head has been filled lately with thoughts about my thoughts--how I think, how my thoughts affect my perception of the world around me, and how changing my relationship with my thoughts (a phrase borrowed from a textbook) changes the way I experience reality. I've been thinking about language, too--how the words I use to describe events can heighten or allay anxiety, how a turn of a phrase can ameliorate or worsen what is actually going on. I don't know if I've bothered to mention it here or if I've just assumed you can telepathically read my mind, but I'm pursuing a graduate degree in counseling and it has added a whole new dimension of awareness, curiosity, empathy and concern about the importance of mental health and my hope to one day have something of substance to offer people who struggle with these issues.

That's all of us at some point, by the way.

October has been beautiful, dear reader. I haven't been out to the desert once during this beloved month and season, a less than ideal circumstance, but I hope to remedy the situation soon. My snakes are doing well. My grubs are robust and content. My children have a slightly more complicated existence, but I accept the fuller range of experience that comes with being human. It's not always easy, but it keeps me in a constant state of wonder and awe. And occasional shock.

I've slowed down my thinking lately, or perhaps I've become more selective in the thoughts I entertain--trying to be aware, trying to be more connected to myself spiritually, trying to listen more deeply than before. It's had an interesting effect, because while life hasn't altered its busy pace and troubles haven't gone away, I feel steadier in my step.

I'm always wishing you the best, dear reader. Even though this place is something akin to being abandoned, I still feel its magic. Words are magical to me. They're like chimes in the wind, and deep, resounding bells. Perhaps because I come here less often the magic holds deeper sway, like stepping into an old, distant dream, half-familiar yet filled with the unknown.

It's November now, and I don't want that to get away from me. I want to wear sweaters and drink tea, I want to pretend I'm curled up with a mesmerizing book that will actually be a textbook, I want my family to be well, and I want to take walks with our little white dog who refuses to sit on my lap.

September 17, 2016

Dear reader, hello. How are you at this beautiful time of year? As always my mind is swirling with thoughts, perhaps more so than usual with the occasion of my dad's death a few weeks ago. There's not much I want to say about it except that I'm filled with an awareness of great, refining emotions...of gratitude, hope, and peace, of a sense of mercy that stretches my heart beyond the span of all I can see.

I'm filled more than ever with an awareness of myself and the life I'm living, of the people within it, of the person I want to be.

I still have every one of my struggles. But I feel more accepting of the ones I can't change, more aware of their limits as opposed to their power over me, more willing to coexist with them while guarding the assurance I still have access to a sense of balance and contentment, no matter what else is going on. It's been busy lately, with my return to school. Something I read in one of my textbooks, written by Irvin Yalom, resonates deeply: "We may exist in a mindfulness of being, a state in which we marvel not at the way things are, but that they are."

Some version of this thought has been threading through my mind unconsciously for many years now, but more consciously as of late: the utter wonder of being alive, the idea we are spectators in this experience, that we should take each step with a degree of awe...and while it is good and necessary to be engaged in what goes on, there is also some value in recognizing the distinction of being the one who is watching it happen, of distinguishing between oneself and the incredible nature of what we are passing through with each moment of the day.

Lest I give the impression of possessing some sudden, unflappable zen...no. I'm still me. Still unable to keep a fraction of my life organized. But I am also changing, and something about watching more carefully from a vantage point has allowed me to have deeper appreciation and make greater sense of what I see around me. I am more grateful for the spectrum of life's plot twists in general. I somehow feel more able to accept what does not make sense to me, namely the great suffering I see in this world. I don't mean a passive acceptance of these things...I mean, a deeper trust that there is meaning and order in the universe, a great, compassionate presence, and that my attempts to do better and be better somehow allow me to feel more hope than despair.

Dear reader, I do not come here often enough, but every day I send my love out into this world. I think of it, I pray over it, I trust in the goodness of humanity and the incredibly reassuring beauty of this exquisite planet.

I'm wishing you a wonderful fall season, with all its accompanying sights, smells, and sounds. Here in the desert it's more subtle, but I take pleasure in every change I see.

June 13, 2016

Inspired by last year's trip to an insectarium in Montréal, I'm attempting to foster my own praying mantis habitat as well as raise a few Dynastes tityus, or the eastern Hercules beetle, from its adorable grub stage (L3 instar) hopefully to adulthood. It would be difficult to explain the various appeals these endeavors hold for me, but in general it comes down to a deep sense of wonder and peace I feel in observing their delicate, instinctive little ways.

I go out to the desert whenever I can. There's much to see amidst that canvas of barren, baked land, where clarity and the extent of physical limits abound. I love being alone with my thoughts and love coming across creatures to stop and observe: some toiling ant, some hand-standing beetle, some thin, mesmerized snake. I have great respect for anything that survives out there, all those scrubby bushes clinging to their branches of pale, dubious green. How can I not keep trying to make something better of myself as I meekly pass them by?

We found a baby bird in our backyard the other day, fallen from his nest. He may not win any beauty contests, but he is strange, resilient, and still. A flock of his species hover nearby, scolding loudly when we come to feed him and it's occurred to me that in caring for this nestling, I'm only propagating that awful noise. Oh well. What else can be done when a scruffy little bird looks at you and opens his beak?

Dear reader, it pains me I so rarely come here anymore. Life is busier, it seems, laden with more cares and greater priorities demanding my time, but I think of this place often. It's more a state of mind, where I can pause to consider words and how I love them, where my thoughts about life and its deeper meanings have a moment to reflect, where doors open to memories and places I've been so I can close my eyes and visit them once again.

I hope you're having a wonderful summer, finding goodness in the midst of everything else that goes on. Perhaps spend a few moments outside today, there are tiny miracles everywhere and the beauty is free for all.

March 29, 2016

"Look how beautiful and delicate and intricate she is. This incredible little creature has brought so much curiosity into my life. I'm so in love. One of my goals is to teach people to love every animal--even the ones they were taught to hate. Keeping strange(r) pets has taught me to search for the little personalities inside them. Even the bugs we keep have the most incredible and delicate ways. When some people hear about my pets, they tell me they squash beetles and chop up or shoot snakes. I cannot imagine deeper ignorance. Invalidating the soul of an animal has to be one of the worst things a human can do (note: if your life is being threatened by an animal, you have to do what you have to do). My greatest dream is for people to love all animals. My snake isn't going to bite you (she's terrified of you). She is beautiful and her tiny life matters so much. (Please try not to tell me if you hate her, it makes me so sad). All animals want to live and love. Please remember this the next time you find your foot over a bee. Be nice to animals and your heart will be transformed by the gratitude they show you."

:: These words have been like a balm to my thoughts all week...borrowed with permission from Izzy's Instagram ::

February 11, 2016

Dear reader, I can't recall wanting many things as a child, at least not things that actually existed, but I have a vivid memory of yearning for art supplies. I longed for a pair of good, sharp scissors, pristine stacks of paper, a spectrum of colored pencils, paints and brushes, ten different kinds of glue. I can still remember how this idea drew me in, how the vision of a creative space with all its accoutrements lingered in my mind as one of the happiest places to be.

Today I'm only the most unrefined of artists, but I still love my art supplies. It gives me a good feeling to see them when I pass by, even if it seems I hardly have a minute to stop and make anything.

In the week before Valentine's, however, we get them out and they stay out. After all, you never know when you'll have five minutes to pen a pretty sentiment and sprinkle it with glitter.

I've been thinking a lot about love lately...how it seems to be at the root of the solution to almost every one of my problems. When troubles build and I find myself feeling overwhelmed or anxious beyond degree, so often proceeding with greater love either solves the dilemma, diffuses it, or makes me feel much calmer about going through it.

It is, by the way, that last dynamic that has come to mean the most to me. I don't expect or even want my problems to be whisked away, but when I feel a deeper strength guiding me through them, I'm lifted by an undeniable awareness of heavenly help. Though it might not change any other detail of the situation, that awareness changes me. It strengthens and comforts me in such a way that, inexplicably, I've sometimes felt any trial would be worth enduring just to know, in a way only extreme humility seems to make possible, the nearness of that love.

I'm learning more deeply of the power that exists in my love as a mother. As Jeffrey Holland recently noted, it's not just in the bearing of children, but in the continued bearing with them, not just in the prenatal carrying but the lifelong carrying that makes mothering such a staggering feat and, as I'm finding, endows my love for my children with a strength that is deeper, greater, and more enduring than whatever problem might bear down upon us. It's not that my worries are dispelled or that I don't suffer bitterly to see my children struggle, it's not that I always recognize a solution or see some light at the end of the tunnel, but lately I've noticed how this love can be so whole and encompassing that, when I give myself to it, every other care may still exist but must do so outside its bounds.

I need to run make dinner, dear reader. I can't keep trying to write down thoughts which continually defy expression, but this is what's on my mind: amor vincit omnia, love conquers all. It is the power that can change and save us, clarifying and expanding our vision to see things more clearly and with greater perspective. It's the lens through which we should look out upon the world, especially to those with whom we are most deeply connected, and perhaps most especially toward ourselves.

I don't know if I will get back here before Valentine's Day, and this doesn't begin to express everything I wanted to say, but I find a certain peace in hoping you will feel it anyway.

November 23, 2015

Dear reader, last week we attended Izzy's school orchestra concert at the Smith Center.

To begin the program, the students performed The Star-Spangled Banner as well as La Marseillaise, which is the national anthem of France. It was very moving to stand at attention as they played, to feel the depth of emotion such music is uniquely qualified to stir.

I'm sharing their performance of a favorite hymn that feels like a prayer to my soul.

I find myself at a loss for words these days, my thoughts have become so inward, but then I often feel a sense of stillness when I visit Tollipop. Perhaps it's a strange thing to admit, that a blog could be a place of solitude, or something of a retreat. Writing has always been that for me and I like to come by here, even when I have nothing to say.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;Streams of mercy, never ceasing,Call for songs of loudest praise.Teach me some melodious sonnet,Sung by flaming tongues above.Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer;Hither by Thy help I’ve come;And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,Safely to arrive at home.Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,Prone to leave the God I love;Here's my heart, O take and seal it;Seal it for Thy courts above.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,Wandering from the fold of God;He, to rescue me from danger,Interposed His precious blood.Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,Prone to leave the God I love;Here's my heart, O take and seal it;Seal it for Thy courts above.

O to grace how great a debtorDaily I'm constrained to be!Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,Bind my wandering heart to Thee:Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,Prone to leave the God I love;Here's my heart, O take and seal it;Seal it for Thy courts above.

November 12, 2015

Dear reader, is it normal to be needier than one's dog? Or are some dogs simply keener than others when it comes to the concept of personal space?

That's dear little Winnie. She follows me from room to room, loves sleeping on our bed, seems to generally enjoy my company, but DOES NOT want to sit on anyone's lap. The most she will permit is sitting directly adjacent to my lap, with not so much as a slip of paper passing between us.

She's no lap dog. But she is our dog.

I took her to the vet recently, who told me (with the most impassive expression I've ever seen on a human face) I wasn't socializing Winnie enough. Dude, maybe take some of your own advice. Either way, I left the office feeling like I'm failing even my dog. So if you're in the mood for a brisk walk or perhaps a quiet afternoon sitting side by side, Winnie is currently accepting applications for a playdate.